


you're home, you're home, you're home to me

by lococation



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hinata Shouyou is Sunshine, M/M, Mama Miya's Subpar Asian Parenting, Miya Atsumu Needs a Hug, Miya Atsumu is a Crybaby, Miya Atsumu's Praise Kink, OP may or may not be projecting, Pining Miya Atsumu, The Inherent Eroticism of Someone Appreciating You For Who You Are, because obviously the asian parent prefers the business major
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28716489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lococation/pseuds/lococation
Summary: Atsumu is weak to praise. He knows this. And then he meets Hinata Shoyo, who inks his arms and showers Atsumu in praise while he's quite literally writhing in embarrassment. And then it happens again. And then, it happens again.In which Atsumu learns how it feels like to be someone's favourite.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu, Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu & Sakusa Kiyoomi, implied Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 18
Kudos: 193





	1. For if I am not yours, what am I?

“Stupid Samu and his stupid successful onigiri chain! This’ll show him!”

Atsumu was angry (obviously). And for good reason: that bastard Samu showed up to the Inarizaki reunion with a cart full of onigiri. Kita-san, who was previously listening to Atsumu’s rant about his uninterested intern who messed up the bouquet delivery, ended up _turning around_ and _ignoring him_ to just marvel over the… complexities of flavour in his onigiri, and the layering of volume, or whatever folks in the food industry talk about. And since Osamu was there, _Rintarou_ was there. And since Rintarou was there, _Rintarou’s phone_ was there - which meant literally _everyone_ from the Inarizaki Gardening Club saw his Tulip pick-up line flop. Even Kita-san was holding back a chuckle. Kita-san. 

Needless to say, Atsumu could punch a hole through a wall right now, but he had better plans. He’s had enough of Samu being the better twin, and the hotter twin, and the twin that could cook. Now, besides being the funnier twin and the twin that smelled like heaven, Tsumu would also be the cooler twin. 

The bell dangling above the door chimed as he slammed past it. 

“OI! I NEED A TATTOO!”

“Uh, sir?” The meek-looking receptionist shakily pointed at a bench. “You’re gonna have to wait there, for now. Sorry.” She scratched the back of her head, laughing nervously. _As if_ there was anything to be afraid of. Atsumu’s been so busy that he hasn’t met Bokuto at the gym in 2 weeks. Great. Now Osamu’s the stronger twin too. 

He plopped down impatiently, checking out the scene around him. When he’d heard that a new tattoo parlour opened 2 blocks away from his store, this wasn’t exactly… what he had imagined. He raises his eyebrow. Atsumu almost feels out of place. There are paper cranes (or, more like… crows?) hanging from the ceiling on rainbow-coloured thread. The walls are painted a warm, tangy orange, with some kid’s watercolour paintings hung up in photo frames. There’s only about, one, two, three flashy certificates stuck up there, which Atsumu can’t tell if he should take as a good or bad sign. The rest of the space is filled with photos of what he assumes to be the tattoo artist with a variety of customers. Heck, Atsumu even recognises some of them. 

Oikawa Tooru, for one. What the fuck? Tobio-kun’s up there too. When did his two best competitors have the time to visit this place? Last he remembered, it literally opened up a week ago. He can even see Kodzuken posed next to a trophy with the little guy - Atsumu saw one of his cousins watching his videos a while back. That one Russian model he saw in a Calvin Klein ad? The museum curator at the dinosaur exhibit he took his ex-girlfriend on a date to last month? Atsumu’s eyes widen. What the fuck? What the fuck. 

“Hi! Sorry to keep you waiting!”

Atsumu looks up. Yeah, no, little guy is right. This dude is actually shorter than Kodzuken. Still ripped though, almost Osamu ripped. He looks like he can barely fit his chest in that black T-shirt. Atsumu can spot all sorts of tattoos scrawled from his neck down to his ankles. The words “Shoyo” are written in bold cursive over his left arm with a watercolour background. Can’t hurt to try. 

“Shoyo-kun, is it?”

“Wow! You got that right!” He smiles, pointing two fingers up to his chest. It is _radiant_ . Atsumu doesn’t even know how that’s possible. “What are you here for?”  
  


“A tattoo. What else?” Atsumu scoffs. 

Shoyo-kun snorts. “Alright, Mr. Einstein. What tattoo do you want?”

And suddenly Atsumu remembers why he’s mad again. He needs to out-cool Samu, get something _so_ eye-catching that people stop talking to Samu to pay attention to the _real_ star of the show - him. 

“Alright. I want a tattoo with a giant fuckin’ monster truck, that has a dolphin with **abs** drivin’ it. Also, the dolphin is huggin’ a hot, smokin’ chick, wearin’ nothin’ but a red bikini. I also want the words ‘YOU WANT TO SUCK ATSUMU’S DICK’ written on a banner in front of it. And- hey d’ya need to write this shit down?”

Shoyo-kun’s mouth opens and closes like a dying fish. He looks like he’s genuinely about to _cry_ . He clutches Atsumu’s shoulders, and Atsumu means _clutches._ Atsumu feels like he’s about to collapse from the weight. Shoyo-kun looks him in the eyes, and for a second, a brief second, Atsumu wonders if he’s going to die. “Atsumu-san, you know that I’ve never turned down a customer before, yes?”

“Uh……” Atsumu breaks out in a cold sweat. He is still pressed against the wall. Shoyo-kun the tattoo artist is very strong and very buff. Atsumu cannot tell if he’s turned on or afraid. 

“And you know that I try to accept any request… right?”

“Well, actually, I’ve never gotten a tattoo before-”

“YOU’VE NEVER GOTTEN A TATTOO BEFORE?”

Shoyo-kun falls to the floor, clutching his head in his hands in what looks like a full blown trauma-induced breakdown. “ATSUMU-SAN.” 

“...Yes, Shoyo-kun?”

“YOU ARE NOT GETTING THAT AS YOUR FIRST TATTOO.”

“...Yes, Shoyo-kun.”

-

It’s only when he sits on the reclining chair, faux leather peeling off the seat, that what he just did _really_ starts to settle in. He grips the armrests, biting his lips. Shoyo-kun dances around the room, humming along to some niche J-Indie song, as he picks up various _very dangerous-looking_ tools and arranges them onto a tray. Okay, Atsumu, you can’t back out now. Focus on something- anything else. The chair isn’t comfortable. Tobio-kun probably got a tattoo before he did. He has a shipment of hydrangeas coming in on Wednesday. Shoyo-kun has a nice ass. NO. FUCK. WRONG THOUGHT. Needles sharp. NOT THAT ONE. 

“Atsumu-san?” Shoyo-kun puts his hand on Atsumu’s shoulder reassuringly, rubbing it back-and-forth. He could probably tell that Atsumu was squirming in his seat. Way to go. There goes his image. “Don’t worry, I know it’s your first time getting a tattoo, but it’ll only hurt for the first minute or so! And… you’ll have a super cool tattoo to show off to all your friends later on!” He flashes Atsumu a thumbs up.

“Yeah.” Atsumu feels like he’s going to puke. “Thanks, Shoyo-kun. That helped. A little.”

Shoyo-kun huffs, leaning against the chair. “Atsumu-san, you know you can always back out, right? I wouldn’t want you to do something you might regret.”

Atsumu _almost_ considers it, but there are two (2) things holding him back from leaping out of his chair, never to be seen again:  
  


  * Tobio-kun might find out about this. That cannot happen. Tobio is one of the few people that _hasn’t_ been brainwashed by Osamu’s lies, and still respects him as an upstanding, award-winning florist and senior.



  * Shoyo-kun looks sad. That is not an expression that should be on Shoyo-kun’s face. Ever. Atsumu would especially feel bad, since Shoyo-kun went out of his way to implement one of his favourite flowers - the Edelweiss, into a semi-cool looking design. Even the blonde receptionist lady looks disappointed in him. Fuck.



“It’s- uh- well, it’s okay. I want the tattoo.” Atsumu stutters. The great Atsumu Miya is stuttering because of a tattoo. God help his soul that Osamu will never find out about this.

“Well,” Shoyo-kun pulls his demonic torture tray closer to the chair, “I already got the stencil ready, so let’s get started!”

-

“Hrnnghhnnnnnghhh...ARGhhhhhhh….hic….hic…” 

YES. He is crying. But FUCK does this hurt like a BITCH. And there is a needle. In him. Right now. Oh my god. There is a needle in him right now. FUCK. Atsumu hates needles. Hates them. Hates them. Should’ve backed out when he had the chance. Moved to fucking- Kyoto or some shit. 

“Hic….hic… m’ sor-OW. M’sorry for the scene, Shoyo-ku- hrnghhhhhhhh…”

“It’s okay, Atsumu-san. You know? I think you’re really cool for being able to face your fears like this.”

“Hrnghhhuh…. Huh?” Atsumu turns his head. Wow, yeah, Shoyo-kun is _completely_ in his element. He’s wielding that death-needle like a God at work. There’s a seriousness in his eyes that burns with overwhelming passion and meticulousness. 

“Yeah! You’re really brave, Atsumu-san. It’s totally normal to be afraid of getting your first tattoo, but you actually pulled through with it!” Shoyo-kun continues etching lines into him with his demon-needle. “I really respect you for that, Atsumu-san. You’re so great. You’re coping so well.”

“Wh- hic… Really?” Atsumu is bleary-eyed. Shit. It’s been so long since someone’s wholeheartedly complimented him like this before. He wasn’t prepared at all. This is a personal attack. His heart feels full. His brain is mush. He’s still biting his tongue. This is not fair, Shoyo-kun. He is very vulnerable right now. You can’t just- praise a man with genuine kindness and acceptance right when he’s about to pass out from the pain. What the fuck. 

“Yeah, you’re doing so well, Atsumu-san. You’re such a cool person.” 

“Hic… hic… Shoyo-kun…. Hic….” 

“Done!” Shoyo-kun lifts the needle off and leaves it on the tray. Thank god. At least he can blame that emotional meltdown on the life-ending pain that is getting a tattoo. Atsumu collapses back onto the chair like a clump of slime, heaving in relief. God. He will never try that again. Osamu can suck it. He thinks back to all the shit Shoyo-kun said while Atsumu was bawling like an overgrown baby, and he almost starts tearing up. So brave? So great? A cool person? Being around people like Sakusa for 4 days a week every week must’ve really left his brain to rot. He can’t believe his heart is melting over the fact that someone _complimented_ him. On God. It was so sweet. He wants to forfeit all mortal possessions to Shoyo-kun. Hand-in-marriage, Shoyo-kun. You are so kind to me even though I’m pretty sure you did it just to shut me up, Shoyo-kun. 

“Uh… thanks, Shoyo-kun. Sorry ya’ had to see that.” Atsumu takes the hot towel off Shoyo-kun’s hands and shoves it on his tattoo. 

“It’s okay, Atsumu-san! Not to brag, but I really liked my personal design.”

“Oh?” Atsumu raises an eyebrow. “Is someone gettin’ cocky now?”

Shoyo-kun laughs, slapping Atsumu over the shoulder. “Of course not! It only looks good on you, Atsumu-san.”

And for the fifth time today, Atsumu almost bursts into tears. He comically clutches his left arm over his chest. “Shoyo-kun, you’re such a heartbreaker.” 

“Wow!” Shoyo-kun dramatically places his hand over his forehead, dipping backwards. “I can’t believe you’d say that, Atsumu-san! I would never break your heart. It’s too pretty!”

Before Atsumu has a chance to say anything (it probably would’ve turned out to be something like ‘hurnghhhhghhh shoyo-kun said i’m purretty……’ regardless), Hinata leans over and peels off the hot towel for him. 

“Do you like it, Atsumu-san?”

A pink-tinted Edelweiss with his name inked above it. There are multiple, smaller flowers painted in the background. Simple. Beautiful. Shit. It might just be worth all the 20 minutes of sobbing. 

“Shoyo-kun. I love it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woke up this morning and thought "what if atsumu wasn't the favourite twin" and pitched this fic to the world. anyways! i just think that hinata comforting and praising atsumu in his most vulnerable moments would probably give hima heart boner, and also that hinata would be a banger tattoo artist. 
> 
> anyways, if you liked this, feel free to leave a comment under my work! i'll appreciate it loads since my monkey brain runs on attention to continue pushing out content hehe; the next chapter will probably have more hurt/comfort, so stay tuned!


	2. I daydream I'd give one a name of my own

Atsumu struts into Onigiri Miya at half-past-nine with a hot new tattoo and the world’s biggest shit-eating grin on his face. Osamu’s newest intern, Misaki, or Mitsuki, or Maeko, runs into him at the door.

“Oh, Atsumu-san.” She grimaces (grimaces? Osamu’s a horrible influence on his employees), “Should I tell Osamu-san that you’re here? He’s a bit busy with-”

“Don’t cha’ worry about it. Osamu would love to see me. I’m the light of his life.” 

“Uh.” 

“Don’t look at me like that!”

“Well,” She drapes her apron over her right arm, side-stepping past Atsumu. “I hope you enjoy catching up with your family, Atsumu-san. Bye.”

Atsumu turns around and strolls over to the counter, head held high. He cups both his hands over his mouth. “SAMU. YA’ WON’T BELIEVE I JUST DID.”

Osamu pokes his head out the kitchen door. He looks significantly less greasy and rice-covered than usual. He also looks like he’d just seen a ghost. “Tsumu. That’s great, but-”

“WHAT’S WRONG? IS FUCKIN’ RINTAROU BACK THERE?”

“Tsumu. That’s not-”

“TELL ‘IM TO COME OUT AND CHECK OUT THIS COOL TATTOO-”

“TSUMU.” Osamu pinches the bridge of his nose. “MOM IS HERE.”

-

Atsumu sits beside his mom, shoving his hands into his pockets and twiddling with the string like a nervous 15-year-old. There is a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

“So, Atsumu,” Mom sends off a text and sits her phone on the counter. “What’s this I’m hearing about a tattoo?” Her eyes crinkle shut and she smiles without really smiling. Atsumu feels like he’s eight again.

“Well, I- uh, went to this tattoo parlor near the store and got it done. It’s pretty small, ya’ can barely notice it-”

“Mom. Onigiri’s ready.” Osamu serves up a plate of tuna onigiri and drums his fingers over the bottom of the counter. He blinks four times. Twin code. Alibi.

See, the thing with being the problem child is, you learn to get away with shit pretty early on. Your brother, who is supposedly the more well-adjusted adult between the two, then grows up watching you hang your head low in front of your mom and gets sick of it. Thus, the formation of the Twin Code. 

  * _Cover-up_ : Twin A fucks up. Before their mom finds out, he knocks on the nearest surface twice and licks his lips. Twin B distracts mom while Twin A covers up his crime. 



  * _Alibi_ : Twin A fucks up. After their mom finds out, he drums his fingers on the nearest surface and blinks four times consecutively. Twin B comes up with an excuse for Twin A to leave, so they can emotionally prepare for the lecture that’s to come. 



  * _Share : _Twin A fucks up. After their mom finds out, he scratches the back of his neck and clicks his teeth. Twin B shares the burden, so mom has more sympathy for Twin A. (applicable only if Twin A is Osamu)



  * _Replace : _Twin A fucks up. After their mom finds out, he crosses his arms over his chest and taps his left foot twice. Twin B gives their mom some good news, so mom is too distracted by Twin B’s achievements to care about Twin A. (only applicable if Twin A is Atsumu)



Atsumu nods. 

“Yo, Tsumu. Didn’t cha’ have to meet with Kiyoomi-kun to discuss those new floral arrangements for Komori-kun’s graduation party?” Osamu winks. Atsumu is forever grateful to Osamu for never wearing his heart on his sleeve. Look at him now, the bastard’s a natural liar. 

“That’s right, I completely forgot. Well, uh, Mom, we’ll talk about this-”

“Sit down, Atsumu.” 

Atsumu freezes in place. Fuck, there’s no way she figured out the twin code. It’s been years. There’s so much shit he managed to hide from her because of their code. What if she finds out about all the cover-ups him and Osamu had during high school? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I’m sure this ‘Kiyoomi-kun’ can wait. Or is florist work more important than yer’ own mother, now?” Mom picks up a tuna onigiri and bites into it. Osamu sucks in a sharp breath.

And so, because he’s just the sweetest little goody-two-shoes, he sits down. Osamu sighs.  _ I tried, Tsumu.  _ Atsumu bites on his bottom lip and starts counting sheep. For about the span of 523 sheep, there’s nothing but the whirring of Osamu’s tabletop fan and sound of his mom’s aggressive chewing in Onigiri Miya.

524 sheep later, Mom swallows. “Atsumu, I don’t understand why you had to go get a tattoo. Those things are irreversible, you know?”

Atsumu grips the fabric of his jeans so hard that it almost tears. “Mom, I’m an adult now, I think I can make my own decis-”

“Atsumu.” She turns around to face him. Atsumu stares at the floor. “Don’t talk back.”   
  


He gulps. “Okay, Mom.”

“Mom,” Osamu flits his eyes over to Atsumu. “I’m sure Tsumu knows what he’s doing. He’s an idiot, but he’s right. He’s 23 this year. He can decide what to do for himself.”

“Osamu,” Her voice softens. Of fucking course it does. Stupid Osamu. “You’re too lenient on your brother. An adult? He barely acts like one.” Atsumu’s mouth runs dry.

She scoffs, crossing her legs over the stool. “He’s still hanging around those flowers of his all day. I asked him to help you manage Onigiri Miya and he still refused. Now, instead of investing in F&B, which is leagues more reliable than those silly plants, he’s using his money to get tattoos.”

“Mom-”

“Mom, can you not talk about me like I’m not here?” Atsumu croaks. “I’m just as successful as Osamu, what’s the problem? For once, can’t you just be happy for me?”

“You say that like I’m a terrible parent. I raised you, Atsumu. When was the last time you’ve felt unsafe in your home? I even paid to let you attend those ridiculous florist courses in high school, just to let you enjoy your hobbies. I want the best for you, Atsumu. Maybe if you were more like Osamu-”

“Whatever.” Atsumu gets up and kicks his stool until it tucks under the counter. "I’ve got stuff to do. Bye, Mom. Bye, Samu.” 

-

Sakusa Kiyoomi gets a text at ten p.m. and sincerely considers ignoring it. Unfortunately, his roommate is sitting beside him shoveling popcorn into his mouth. Sakusa Kiyoomi physically cannot do anything remotely mean when he’s in the presence of one Hinata Shoyo. It’s like committing an atrocity in front of an angel. All around not worth weighing on his guilty conscience. 

**Miya**

_ oi _

_ ur apartment is close to hyogo’s onigiri miya right _

**You**

_ No. _

**Miya**

_ ok im crashing at ur place _

_ comin over now _

**You**

_ I literally said no. _

Read 10:03 p.m.

-

Atsumu no less than slams the cab door before walking up to Sakusa’s apartment. No, Atsumu is not an idiot. He  _ knows  _ he’s going to get absolutely wrecked the next time he sees his mom. Does that mean he’s willing to stay there and listen to Mom kiss Osamu’s ass for 30 minutes while Osamu stands there and pity stares at him the entire time? Absolutely not.

He knocks on Sakusa’s door. 

Crinkling. More crinkling. Grunting, presumably from Sakusa. Shuffling. 

“C-o-o-o-o-ming!” Huh. That’s definitely. Not Sakusa. Sakusa wouldn’t sound that happy even if he managed to graduate from med school with a high distinction. Certainly not to see Atsumu, of all people. 

“Oh!” The door creaks open. “Wow! And I thought Kiyoomi was lying when he said that it was you, Atsumu-san!”

“Shoyo-kun? What’re you- Kiyoomi?” Atsumu gestures frantically between the two. “Wh-h-What?”

-

Shoyo-kun, the absolute angel that he is, sets up the couch-bed for Atsumu. If he notices that Atsumu’s eyes look icky and red and sore, he doesn’t mention it. Sakusa, the devil of a man that he is, tells him to leave by 9 a.m. tomorrow. 

“Komori’s coming over at 9:30 a.m.”

“It’s not like I don’t know how to talk to Komori, ya’ don’t have to chase me out, Omi.”

“No.”

“WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN.”

Shoyo runs into his room and lugs out a pile of blankets that are reach over his head. “Atsumu-san! Let’s hang out in the living room tonight!”

“It’s okay, Shoyo-kun.” Atsumu reaches down to ruffle his hair. The threads are soft between his fingers. Atsumu messes it up some more. “I can just make do on my own.”

“Atsumu-san,” Shoyo looks up at him and  _ pouts _ . This sly motherfucker. He can’t say no to  **that** . “Omi-kun’s been too busy with finals to hang out with me. I haven’t been able to have a movie night with someone in so-o-o-o-o-o long!”

“Well, I mean,” Atsumu strokes his chin, pretending to think over the deal. “What’re we watchin’?”

Shoyo-kun snickers and waves the remote around in his hand. “Studio Ghibli!”

“Hmmmmmmmm……”

“Atsumu-san,” Shoyo tugs on his arm, “come on! No one can say no to Howl’s Moving Castle!”

_ No one can say no to you, you mean.  _ Atsumu plops down on the makeshift blanket fort. “Alright, alright, let’s watch some real good tearjerkers!”

“Tearjerkers for you, you mean.” Shoyo sticks out his tongue, crawling under the blankets. “Mr-bawls-his-eyes-out-at-a-tattoo.”

Atsumu sticks a pillow onto Shoyo’s face. “OI. Stop hangin’ out with Omi! He’s a terrible influence!” And if Shoyo-kun notices that Atsumu’s wearing his tattoo like a badge of honour, he doesn’t mention it. 

-

“Atsumu-san?” Shoyo, cuddled up to Atsumu’s side, stirs him awake. 

“Huh? What time is it?” He looks at the screen. Grave of the Fireflies. Runtime: an hour in. 

“3 a.m. Are you comfortable sleeping like this?”

“Yeah, yeah. I was.” Atsumu mentally thanks past-Shoyo-kun for turning off the lights. Current-Shoyo-kun can’t see the flush on Atsumu’s cheeks. God, he’s  _ really  _ pressed into Atsumu’s side. His arms are perfectly fitted. Shoyo-sized. He can see all the colourful tattoos reaching down Shoyo’s collarbone. “I don’t really feel like sleepin’ ‘nymore, though.”

“Eh?” Shoyo jolts up. “Sorry for waking you, Atsumu-san.”

“Ah, it’s alright. Let’s watch the movie.”

They stay like that for a while - huddled together on the couch, warmed by the touch of each other’s skin. Settled in a comfortable silence. 

“Atsumu-san.”

Atsumu looks down at Shoyo. He’s got an expression Atsumu can’t read. It’s like the intense, concentrated stare he wielded while giving Atsumu his tattoo, but sharper. Tamer. An eerie calmness to it. “Yes, Shoyo-kun?”

“Do you want to talk about… what happened?”

“Oh.” Atsumu winces. His eyes stay glued to the screen. He can’t handle being seen by Shoyo right now. “It’s kinda stupid, actually. I just- ya’ know, I’ve never been anyone’s favourite.”

Shoyo listens intently. Atsumu continues. 

“Samu was always my mom’s favourite kid. She never praised me, or ‘nythin. Just, always compared me n’ Samu, y’know? And that messed me up loads, as a kid. ‘Specially since Samu was so important to me n’ all. So, now, I’m like, enjoyin’ my life, for once. Me n’ Samu. We can’t be compared ‘nymore. We’re adults. He’s doin’ what he loves, and I’m surrounded by shit that I love everyday.”

He feels Shoyo lean into his chest. He hopes he can’t hear Atsumu’s heart race.

“So when I got this tattoo, and mom compared me and Samu again, I guess I… just forgot what it felt like. To be the one that no one’s s’posed to like.” Atsumu’s lip trembles. He can’t cry again, not in front of Shoyo-kun. He doesn’t- doesn’t want to be seen. Like this.

Then, he feels arms wrap around his stomach. What. 

“Atsumu-san, that’s ridiculous. You deserve love. You’re so cool, and funny, and kind. You deserve it. You deserve to be loved.”

“Shoyo-kun,” Atsumu chokes back the lump in his throat. “Yer’- yer’ makin’ it so hard to- not burst out into tears right now, y’know? Come on, let go.”  _ Hold tighter. Don’t leave.  _ “Ya’ don’t want to see this.”

“No. I’m not letting go.” Shoyo burrows closer to Atsumu. “I need to tell you this. You’re really, really, really amazing. Even if you can’t see that in yourself, I can see it in you. The way you love your brother, your flowers, you deserve to get all that back! You love so deeply and passionately, it’s amazing. You’re amazing, Atsumu-san. You’re worth loving.”

And that’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Atsumu heaves. Coughs out tears like his life depends on it. 23 years of repressed insecurities breaking through the dam. Shoyo turns him around and wipes away his tears. “Come on, Atsumu-san. You’re so pretty, even if you’re wiping snot all over Omi-kun’s blankets.” He smiles. “How could you ever think you’re not worth love?”

“S- hic- Shoyo-kun-”

“It’s okay, Atsumu-san.” Shoyo circles his thumb over Atsumu’s tattoo. “Go ahead and cry. I’m here.”

Atsumu curls into Shoyo’s lap. And what about it, if that’s all he had wanted to hear all these years. ‘I’m here,’ God. Atsumu will crawl through hell if it means he gets to die in this man’s arms. 

“I’m,  _ hic _ , touched, Shoyo-kun.”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HRGHHHHH ATSUMU CRYBABY AGENDA... yes, the eternal pain of getting compared to your sibling... universal to all... atsumu is weak to praise because he didn't get praised much in his childhood so once hinata shows up atsumu is just. dead. on the floor. goop. NEXT CHAPTER: osamu, confession, and flowers! it's all fluff next chapter, baby. all fluff.
> 
> anyways, if you liked this, feel free to leave a comment under my work! i'll appreciate it loads since my monkey brain runs on attention to continue pushing out content hehe


	3. So, let me go, towards the morning star

Miya Atsumu wakes up to  **cold** . Also, his hoodie is wet. His hair, wet. His face - you guessed it, wet. Now, call Atsumu a crybaby brat idiot (creative nickname courtesy of Aran-kun), but even  _ he  _ knows that he didn’t cry that much yesterday night. Maybe.

“If you’re not getting up and out of my apartment in two minutes I will not hesitate to throw oil in your hair next, Miya.”

So, that answers it. He glares daggers up at Sakusa’s bastard face. See, Atsumu was expecting to wake up to something much more  _ pleasant _ . Say, Shoyo’s fingers looping with his, the soft hum of Shoyo’s J-indie music, a gentle “Atsumu-san” delicately whispered here and there. Not Sakusa. Definitely not Sakusa. Never Sakusa. 

“Fuck off, ya’ dickhead.”

“Bold words,” Sakusa’s face darkens, “coming from someone who broke into my apartment at 11 and rubbed your disgusting face all over my blankets  _ and  _ roommate.”

Atsumu sticks out his tongue. “Where’s Shoyo-kun, anyways? He’s not like ya’, Omi-kun. He would never leave a distressed damsel such as I, lonely and vulnerable, in the dens of a big, scary monster.” He flutters his eyelashes and makes soggy smooching noises at Sakusa, earning a pillow to the face and a gratuitous spray of sanitiser on his legs. 

“Hinata, unlike you, has better things to do. You know, like work? Now, get your ass out of my apartment before I throw you out myself.”

-

After returning to his bachelor pad and applying an excessive amount of facial products, because Atsumu spent the entirety of last night  _ crying _ , mind you. He’s not going out looking like Omi-kun a week before finals. He shows up to work groggy, tired and frankly, still kind of soaked. (Thanks, Sakusa.) 

“Wow, Tsumu. Ta’ think that’cha actually showed up late. I was ‘bout to call up Kiyoomi-kun to check if he finally got around to killin’ ya.”

“Samu?” Atsumu whips his head toward the waiting room. “The hell? I gave ya’ the spare key fer’ emergencies, dipshit.”

“This  _ is  _ an emergency.” Osamu raises up a plastic bag with the Onigiri Miya icon drawn over the top. “I need someone to taste my newest invention.”

“Fuck off, I have orders to attend to. If ya’ really think ya’ could bribe me with yer’ onigiri-”

“Ts-u-u-mu.” Osamu sing-songs in his annoying bastard voice. (“ _ The same as yer’ annoyin’ bastard voice.” _ says a thought that sounds awfully like Sunarin.) He rattles the bag by Atsumu’s ear. “Its got tu-u-u-na. T-fer’-Tu-u-u-na. T-fer’-Ts-u-u-mu. Come on, Tsumu. Give i-i-i-n.”

“No way. I took the day off yesterday, so I gotta’ get to these orders quick.” Atsumu’s eyebrow twitches. Some tuna would actually sound pretty good right now, but Atsumu is  _ strong _ . He can resist this. He’s still mad at Osamu. He’s still mad at Osamu. He’s still mad at-

“Atsumu-k-u-u-n!” Osamu holds the onigiri up to his face, moving it around while making a high-pitched puppet voice. “Come o-o-o-n! Ya’ know ya’ want to eat me! My delicious tuna fillin’! E-a-a-a-t me, Atsumu-ku-u-un!”

“Samu, I swear ta’ God-”

“Eat me!” Osamu holds up yet  _ another  _ tuna onigiri and shoves it against Atsumu’s cheek. Osamu makes this one sound like a diseased victorian maid. What the hell. “Eat me! Eat me! Eat me!”

“Samu-”

“I’m not the handsome, talented Osamu-san! I’m onigiri-chan!” Osamu bumps his shoulder against Atsumu’s. “Eat me!”

“What even is this, Samu. How did Aran-kun live with this.” Atsumu holds back the urge to grin. Who does Osamu think he is? Breaking into his own store and making him laugh? Outrageous.

“O-o-o-o-h amazing, cool, Atsumu-k-u-u-un!” Osamu whistles. “Don’t ya’ wanna spend some time with yer’ lonely brother and eat his ta-a-asty ta-a-asty tuna onigiri?”

Atsumu pretends to huff and snatches (what he presumes to be) Onigiri-chan from Osamu’s hand, walking into the break room. “Whatever, I’m hungry anyways.” 

-

“I can’t believe I had to perform a one-man opera just to get’cha to eat some onigiri with me. You’re so demanding, Tsumu.” 

“Nyo one ashed you ta’ do that, O’ shenerous Oshamu-shan.” Atsumu chews on clumps of tuna, pressing his weight against the back of the chair. 

“At least swallow before ya’ start spitting shit.” Osamu flicks him on the shoulder. “It’s really been a while since I’ve been at yer’ flower shop, though, Tsumu.”

“...Yeah, Samu.”

“Yer’ really gone far, Tsumu.” Osamu nudges his foot. “Guess all that hard work paid off after all.”

“O- _ sniff _ \- Of course it did, dumbass.” Atsumu turns his head away from Osamu, staring straight at the brick-tiled walls. “It’s not like ya’ didn’t succeed, either.”

Osamu snorts. Asshole. “Sure, Tsumu, but’cha already knew that. I’m just sayin’, no matter what Mom says ‘bout ya, I still think yer’ pretty great.”

“Shut up. Stupid Samu.” Atsumu kicks Osamu under the table. His legs wobble. “We’re both pretty great.”

“Yeah. We sure are.”

-

Atsumu is having a dilemma. Atsumu is having a dilemma and this  _ stupid  _ couple will not shut the fuck up. Dilemma: Sakusa Kiyoomi gave Shoyo his number. Hinata Shoyo sent Atsumu a text. Atsumu proceeded to nearly chuck his phone into the garbage bin out of a self-inflicted gay panic. 

The texts are as follows:

**+81-9087455094**

hello-hello!!!!

It’s hinata shoyo!!!

kiyoomi gave me your number hehe (/ω＼)

**You**

NSJNSJNSKNKSNKS

NSJNS7HS9S89822OK200902M

NKSNLAALALKKOAKO

**+81-9087455094**

ehhhh???  Σ(ﾟДﾟ；)

did kiyoomi give me the wrong number????

**You**

NO

HI

ITS ATSUMU

**+81-9087455094**

ah okok atsumu-san

what was that???  (´･_･`)

**You**

i dropped my phone

**+81-9087455094**

hahaha so cute atsumu-san!!!

anyways bakageyama told me where ur shop is lol

im done with work so im coming to visit!!  (ﾉ>｡☆)ﾉ

c u soon!!!!

**You**

see you soon, shoyo-kun

-

As such, Atsumu has to deal with the painful mortal coil of customer service even though Shoyo-kun’s already on his way over. More importantly, while this couple is  _ clearly  _ not taking any of his advice despite monopolising his time by continuously asking for it, he needs to think of how to give a bouquet to Shoyo, but like, y’know, platonically. Because Shoyo is definitely straight, because he’s living with Sakusa, and he’d rather believe that Shoyo is the most heterosexual man alive than accept that he might’ve lost Shoyo to  _ Sakusa Kiyoomi  _ of all people. 

“Sir? Sir?”

Atsumu sticks on his most abhorrently plastic smile. “Yes, how may I help you?”

“We’re thinking of setting up butterfly weeds at the wedding. Their vibrant colours really suit the vibe of our relationship, don’t you think?”

_ Yes _ , Atsumu thinks,  _ if the vibe of your relationship is a divorce. _ Atsumu, however, would never send out a disaster bouquet, no matter how incompetent the customer. He respects his babies too much for that. He’s not letting some quirky, know-it-all couple ruin his business. “Sir, how about ya’ take a look at one of our pre-made selections, for a shot?”

“No way!” The customer’s annoying girlfriend tugs on his sleeve. “I want my wedding to be unique!”

“You heard the lady.”

Atsumu almost pops a vein. Amateurs. Amateurs. Everyone wants to be unique. Why trample over the simple beauty of his flowers in the process? “Okay, madam. I’m tellin’ ya’ this. Instead of tryin’ to be quirky and pickin’ a crap ton of flowers that don’t even match well aesthetically,” Atsumu crosses his arms. “Why don’tcha just have me make you an arrangement myself? My treat.”

“Rude!”

“Hmph.” The customer checks his watch. “Send us the arrangement plans by next week, or we’ll give you a low rating online.” Boohoo-low-rating-man pulls his girlfriend straight out the door. Fucking finally.

“Ah! Atsumu-san!!” Shoyo, like a mythical angel sent down to save his god-forsaken day, bursts past them in his sexy black turtleneck and sexy fingerless gloves. Fuck. “Wow, your store is so pretty!”

“Shoyo-kun, fancy seein’ ya’ round here.” Atsumu reaches over to ruffle Shoyo’s hair. Still fluffy. Atsumu is inwardly screaming. Still fluffy. “Don’t mind those assholes that just left, can’t appreciate the work it takes bein’ a florist, sometimes.”

“Atsumu-san, you’re mean to your clients.” Shoyo’s head droops to the side in a little, confused pout. Atsumu is now inwardly on his knees, screaming into the mountains. Mountain man Atsumu. A vow of celibacy.

“Not all of ‘em. Just these ones. Ain’t doin’ my babies any justice.” Atsumu taps his foot impatiently. 

Shoyo grips his wrist and pulls them over to the display cases. “Well,” He darts his tongue out. “Why don’t you show me what the fuss is all about?”

“Yeah.” Atsumu opens it up. “S-sure. Well, ya’ already know these ones, the Edelweiss. They’re my favourite. Samu and I, when we were at our grans’, we used to see loads of these. Real beautiful, especially in the mornin’ light.”

“C-o-o-o-l!” Shoyo’s eyes sparkle, paying close attention to every second of Atsumu’s explanations. Atsumu, now in closer view, sees all the flowers laced up Hinata’s right arm. They’re pretty basic, obviously. Shoyo’s no expert. But there’s something different seeing them portrayed like this. Inked with passion, dedication. Love. Atsumu almost trips up when he continues. 

“These are pretty popular, too. Sunflowers. Bright, warm.”  _ Like you.  _ “Reminds me of the springs where Samu and I would go flower-pickin’ together. I really like these. Real’ cool, how they’re so devoted to the Sun. Sucked into its orbit.” Atsumu sputters, staring at Shoyo’s eyes. Bright, warm. Sucked into its orbit. Fuck.

“Oh, that’s metal!” Shoyo picks a sunflower from the case, and yanks Atsumu’s face down to his level. Atsumu chokes on his spit. 

“Sh-Shoyo-kun?????”

“Hmmm… Here!” Shoyo sticks the sunflower into Atsumu’s hair, combing his fingers over Atsumu’s bangs. Atsumu has lost all energy. His remaining brain cells are running in circles, slamming into the walls of his empty head. He suddenly does not remember how breathing works. In? Out? Shoyo-kun. Don’t collapse don’t collapse don’t collapse.

“Woah,” Shoyo exclaims, pushing past a whisper, fondness dripping through his voice. “You’re… so beautiful, Atsumu-san.”

Atsumu’s brain is no more. No more brain. Only Shoyo-kun. He cannot even begin to process what just happened. He doesn’t have time to figure it out before Hinata pulls him by his collar and presses a featherlight kiss on Atsumu’s lips. 

Repeat. Hinata presses a kiss on Atsumu’s lips.

Repeat. Hinata kissed Atsumu’s lips.

Repeat. Hinata kissed Atsumu.

“Y-you- kiss- me?” Atsumu points at himself, stuttering frantically. He almost loses his footing and crashes into the counter.

“Yes, Atsumu-san.”

“Me-kiss by-y-you?” 

Shoyo chuckles. “Yes, Atsumu-san.”

Atsumu clutches Shoyo’s shoulders with what remaining energy he has left. “You like me? YOU LIKE ME????”

Shoyo kisses Atsumu again. Atsumu’s brain short-circuits. Kiss. Soft kiss. Warm kiss. Kissy kiss. He got kissy-kissed by Shoyo-kun. Shoyo’s lips were soft. They tasted a bit like strawberries. Oh my fucking god. They tasted like strawberries. “Yes, Atsumu-kun. I like you.”

Atsumu takes a deep breath. And then he sobs.

“Shoyo-kunnnnnn  _ hic  _ I like you so much  _ hic _ I cannot  _ hic  _ believe  _ hic  _ this feels like a dream Shoyo-kun oh my  _ hic _ god I’m going to die Shoyo-kun  _ hic  _ die die die die of happiness oh my god-”

Shoyo kisses Atsumu again. With fervor, this time. Their teeth clack and it's messy and there’s tongue where the tongue isn’t supposed to be, and also Atsumu’s tears and snot are everywhere, but it’s amazing. Mind-numbingly amazing. 

Ah, Atsumu wants to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY COMPLETE!!! I'm not gonna lie this chapter was soooo fun to write, especially since I love Osamu and Atsumu's sibling dynamic so much T_T All of the chapter titles are taken from Mitski's "Wife", because I'm a useless bisexual (like some other blonde florist idiot i know of) 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed reading!! I don't respond to all of them, but just reading your comments made me feel really happy and they light up my day! Leave a Kudos and comment if you liked it! Thanks for sticking through with me on this, I couldn't have done it without you! Follow my twitter [ @lococationer ](https://twitter.com/lococationer) if you want to see more atsuhina brainrot <3


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